


A Shot of Poison, To Calm the Nerves

by wordscorrupt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Parent Tony Stark, Poisoning, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sick Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 18:26:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18287807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordscorrupt/pseuds/wordscorrupt
Summary: Tony drags his unwilling intern to the Annual Stark Industries Gala. He starts to think he should have kept the kid home, as the night quickly descends into chaos.





	A Shot of Poison, To Calm the Nerves

**Author's Note:**

> Hi ya'll! Time for a new WIP. This is based off a prompt sent in on Tumblr: Someone poisons a drink meant for Tony, but Tony gives it to Peter on accident.
> 
> Do not @ me for any medical accuracies. You have no idea how much research went into this. Spoiler alert it's arsenic and it's a bitch to write about.

“Missed having my shadow around. Everything okay, bud?”

 

Peter glances up, searching for the familiar voice, smiling when his eyes land on Tony. Tony takes the chair next to Peter, placing a drink in front of the kid.

 

“Just a little something to help calm those nerves.”

 

Peter raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the clear liquid swimming around.

 

Tony rolls his eyes, lip turning upward. “It’s not alcohol I swear. May and Pepper would have my balls hanging from a mantle in five seconds flat.”

 

“I’m not nervous,” Peter suggests, finger brushing against the rim of the glass.

 

“Kid, you don’t have to lie to me. Shoot, I still get nervous at these things. You know how many people here do not like me?” Tony turns around in his chair and gestures to the sea of pristine dressed guests at the Annual Stark Industries Gala.  

 

“Yet, you invited them?” Peter asks, then takes a hesitant sip of the drink.

 

Tony scoffs, turning back around. “All part of the business, kiddo. You’ll learn it someday.” Yet, he wonders how anybody could hate his kid though. There wasn’t a single bad bone in his body. Tony had taken it upon himself, much to Peter’s dismay, to introduce Peter to practically all guests. He thinks it would have been easier to bring Peter with him on stage during his opening remarks but he’s almost certain the kid would have passed out.

 

Nevertheless, every person introduced to Peter gained a gleam in their eyes, evidence of a certain fondness that Peter could bring out in people. The same fondness that Tony eyed Peter now as the kid relaxed in his seat, placing the now empty glass on the table.

 

“Just about two more hours left, kiddo. But, I can get Happy to take you back to the tower early if you want to call it a night.”

 

Peter shook his head, coughing slightly into his fist. “It’s okay. Don’t bother him. I’m fine really.” Peter hears the sound of the chair sliding against the floor and the smell of Tony’s cologne is more poignant as his mentor leans in closer.

 

“You should know; I love to bother that man more than anything else. It’s my favorite pastime, really. You say the word and I make the call, kiddo.”

 

Peter smiles faintly. He can’t bring himself to reply back, more focused on the ever-growing foul taste crawling up his throat and spreading across his tongue. He swallows, hoping to get rid of the taste, but a rush of burning pain travels down his esophagus instead. He gasps, grabbing a hold of the table cloth in front of him.

 

Tony, busy messaging Happy that he might have to take Peter home early, glances up when he hears a pained groan.

 

“Peter?” He barely has enough time to get up from his seat, watching in horror as Peter doubles over onto the ground, one arm holding his stomach as the other drags the table cloth down, all the plates and cups crashing down on the ground.

 

He’s more than aware of all the eyes now set on them as he pushes Peter’s chair away and kneels down next to the kid, setting a shaking hand on his back.

 

“Peter, kiddo, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

 

The kid is now curled up on the ground, tears leaking from his eyes as both arms wrap around his stomach, as if he’s holding onto dear life. Peter can only manage to whisper one word through his grinded teeth. “Hurts.”

 

“Okay, kiddo. Okay, you’re alright.” He tries to move the kid onto his lap but that only results in painful shrieks that has Tony jerking away from the kid, as if his touches ignited a fire within the teen. Tony shakes his head, ignoring his racing heart and practically crawls back to the teen.

 

“I’m sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He needed to move him though. Tony runs his fingers through the kid’s locks, trying to offer any comfort he can. He takes note of the sweat that starts to cake his fingers.

 

“Tony! Tony! What happened?” He hears the sound of heels clashing against the tile floor and a second later Pepper appears in his line of vision, kneeling down on the other side of Peter. He watches her expression as she takes in the sight of the agonized teen crumpled in front of her. Takes in the pitiful cries and desperate short gasps.

 

“Jesus. Peter, baby, it’s okay. Medics are on their way, honey.” She gently cups one of his cheeks, thumb moving to swipe away at the tears.

 

Tony leans in closer, feeling more than a little helpless at the moment. “Peter, kiddo. What else hurts other than your stomach?”

 

“H-hea’,” Peter tells him, face scrunched in pain.

 

Tony sighs, shaking his head. None of this made sense. None of it made fucking sense. He takes a look around, hoping that his search could offer him any clue. He mostly takes in the wide eyes and horrified expressions of onlookers until his eye settle on the empty glass a few feet away from him and suddenly everything hits him like a crashing wave.

 

“Shit. He’s been poisoned.”

 

Pepper’s neck nearly breaks as she looks up at him. “ _What?”_

 

“The glass. The fucking drink, someone poisoned it. Fuck!” Guilt, anger, and horror encompass him as the realization of what just occurred settled in. Whatever poison it was, it was fast acting. His kid maybe had a few hours left. Shit, even minutes.

 

Suddenly, it feels like he can’t breathe. The walls seem to close up on him and his vision becomes blurry. He struggles to loosen his tie and ends up ripping it off. He grabs and pulls at clumps of his hair as his eyes travel down to his kid. As if Peter can sense the panic in his mentor, terrified half-lidded eyes look up at him. It’s the look that forces Tony into action. He grabs the glass, securing it on himself.

 

“I’m not waiting any longer,” Tony states firmly as his iron suit is activated and encloses around him in mere seconds.

 

“Tony?”

 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Tony apologizes as his arms snake underneath his kid, hoisting him up into his arms. He’s not gentle. He doesn’t have the time to be. Peter’s hollers out in pain at the sudden movement.

 

“Hold on tight for me, buddy.” With his precious cargo in hand, Tony flies out there, practically at light speed.

 

Friday notifies the medical staff at the compound and the second Tony lands on the helipad, Peter is whisked away on a stretcher.

 

Tony deactivates the suit, running alongside the gurney as they race Peter towards the MedBay. He’s quiet now. Too quiet. His arms hung limply by his side, head lolled to the side. Vomit trails down the side of his mouth.

 

Tony can’t dwell too much longer as they reach the MedBay. While the medical staff quickly start to assess their patient, Tony hunts down one of the lab techs and shoves the glass into their hands.

 

“Run a Chem analysis on this. Whatever was in here, poisoned my kid and we need to know what it was. Now!”

 

The assistant practically trips over their own feet as they turn around and hurry to their lab.

 

Tony turns around, marching towards the middle of the room where the doctors and nurses continued to surround his kid. He didn’t want to impede but at the same time, he didn’t dare leave Peter’s side.

 

_“BP 80/52. Pulse is 160.”_

 

_“Delayed pupil response. He’s in and out of it, guys.”_

 

_“Peter! Peter, squeeze my fingers. Come on, kid, squeeze!”_

 

_“Decreased breath sounds on both sides.”_

 

_“I’ve got a twenty-one gauge in the right hand. Pulling blood for lab now.”_

 

_“Jesus, where’s all this blood coming from?!”_

 

_“He’s – shit – I think he’s lost control of his bowels. That’s where the blood’s coming from.”_

 

God, this wasn’t happening. Hours ago he was helping Peter fix his bowtie in front of the mirror. The kid whined when Tony ruffled his hair once they were done effectively destroying the gel-haired look he was aiming for.

 

Now…now his kid was dying. Dying right in front of him and there wasn’t a single thing he could about it.

 


End file.
